


It's One of Those Days

by leftid



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Body Worship, Damien is Sad, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, VegaMarch Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftid/pseuds/leftid
Summary: “Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just… wanted to make sure. Nothing big happened today?” Lucien cautioned.“Not a thing, son.”Oh. Lucien thinks he understands now.It’s one of those days.Damien is out of commission, his family is there to help pick him back up.





	It's One of Those Days

He heard the jingling of keys, the muted crack of the door, and then the dragging of feet. Lucien was on the couch, scrolling through his phone as his dad returned from work.

“Hello, Lucien. How was school?” came the rehearsed question.

“Fine, dad,” came the automatic response. But something about the way his father merely hummed, dropping his work bag soundly by the foot of the stairs, pulled Lucien’s attention just the slightest. “How was work today?” he cautioned, “Everything go alright?”

“Yes, of course. Nothing particularly eventful transpired today,” Damien replied as almost a question. Lucien was still wary about that answer. His father sounded sincere in saying nothing upsetting had happened, yet held himself with a stature that suggested everything but.

“You sure? Kevin is giving you space? Leonard didn’t try to fix something out of his pay grade again, did he?” Lucien sat up on the couch, looking over the back of it to see Damien standing listlessly at the kitchen island.

“No, not at all. In fact, most of the troublemakers were quite docile. Sharnelle from work even brought donuts in today. She saved the dairy-free one for me. Why? Is something wrong, son? It’s rare to see you so invested in my boring world of computers.” Damien cracked a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just… wanted to make sure. Nothing big happened today?” he cautioned.

“Not a thing, son.”

Oh. Lucien thinks he understands now.

_It’s one of those days._

Quickly, Lucien tapped out a text. Locking his phone screen, he hopped off the couch to go to his dad. He righted the slumped-over work bag, slipping out Damien’s water bottle to place in the fridge. Keys went swiped off the dining table and placed in the bowl by the door.

“Did you eat yet, dad?” Lucien already knew the answer, walking over to the pantry to search for a few ingredients for some classic comfort food. “I was gonna make pasta for tonight.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Lucien frowned just the slightest, away from Damien’s line of sight. His father was wearing out fast. These noodles would need to cook accordingly. _Damn, why can’t water boil right away?_ He broke the pasta into the water, covering it loosely before turning around to see Damien sitting at the island, gaze a million miles away. It didn’t seem that his dad was going to snap out of it any time soon, not on his own.

Remembering how his father occupied his free-time in the past few days, Lucien silently slipped upstairs to the library in Damien’s home office, shuffling through the books that were strewn across his desk. Lucien scanned the titles, finding a crinkled paperback, pages soft with use and bent just the slightest from every read. Oscar Wilde’s _A Life in Letters_. It was safe and something his father could read on even the worst of days. _Especially_ on his worst days. Damien could probably recite every entry by now.

Lucien jogged down the stairs and slipped the book near his father, barely sparing Damien a glance as he went back to watching the pasta.

“It’ll take about half an hour,” he said in lieu of explaining himself.

The only sounds in the kitchen were of the bubbling water and scuffs of wooden spoon against a metal pot. Lucien wouldn’t have been worried on a regular day, but this wasn't one. Lucky enough, he heard their sliding door click about, signaling that someone was coming in.

“Hey Lucien, hey Damien,” Ernest greeted, toeing his muddy shoes off and tucking his bag underneath the island.

“Oh! Ernest, I didn’t realize you were coming over, dear boy. Let me get you a snack, do you want something to drink?” Damien shot upright and went for the fridge but a pale hand stopped him.

“Don’t sweat it, dad. Ernest is _my_ guest. I’ll handle it.” He turned to the smaller boy. “You want anything, bro? I’m cooking pasta, it’ll be done in a bit.”

“Nah, I’m fine man. I can wait.” Ernest sat at the island adjacent to Damien, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Hey Damien, do you wanna listen to this track me, Sita, and Pablo have been working on? I was gonna show Lucien but, uh, you can listen if you wanna. Or whatever.”

“I would love to, darling. You said you collaborated with Carmensita and Pablo? What project is this?” Damien certainly sounded interested, but Ernest could tell that behind his eyes, the man was using up what little energy he had left to be invested. Damn him.

“Sita’s dad was talking about getting some new ambiance music for his store, he asked if we wanted to help out. I’m more of a lyric guy, but Sita and Pab looked really excited so I agreed to collab.” Ernest tugged at the edges of his hood, looking away from Damien’s inquisitive eyes.

Lucien had asked him to come over and help cheer up his dad. Ernest liked Damien enough, and he’s been over often, even a healthy handful of times where Lucien wasn’t in the house. Damien was as much Ernest’s friend as Lucien was, and if there was anything Ernest prided himself over, it would be how much he cared about his friends.

“Anyway, here’s _Wonderwall_.” It wasn’t _Wonderwall_.

What came out of the laptop was low synth, some expert guitar picking, and what sounded like a record crackling. Eventually, a steady, jazz drum beat kicked in, adding a bit of pop to the mix. There weren’t many lyrics, but what was there sounded like a sound clip from some classic Hollywood film. _Casablanca_ , Damien thinks.

“This is beautiful, Ernest. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it,” he hummed.

“Thanks,” came the mumbled reply.

Overall the music was incredibly calming, washing over the still, late Thursday afternoon. The three of them were a regular Edward Hopper, locked in a moment of time. Lucien was watching the pot, Ernest was working on some homework, and Damien was glossing over his book.

Ernest shared a couple looks with Lucien, glancing quickly over at Damien to assess the situation. He wasn’t completely sure what to do in times like this and Lucien was being no help.

“Are you in a talking mood, Damien?” he asked.

“If there’s something on your mind, son, you needn’t hesitate with me.”

“No, it’s not that. I’ll talk if _you_ wanna talk. I don’t have a ton to say, but I’m, like, being considerate and shi—uh, stuff.” Ernest threw a glance to Damien before darting back to his paper. Damn, he hated math.

“I’d like to hear about your day. Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee I’ll be a very good conversation partner.” At least Damien was being honest with himself.

“Yeah, I can do that. Uh, lemme see. So dad dropped me and Lucien off at school. Lucien went to his early class, and I hung out with some people at breakfast in the cafeteria. Sita came in later when breakfast was about to end, OH, but it’s okay! ‘Cuz she had her pill speaker with her! And…”

Lucien stopped listening for a second to pull out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to find the last piece to their puzzle.

* * *

**Wrestle Dad**

 

hey are you out of the school yet

? Yes, I just came home.

It’s quiet, is Ernest with you?

ye he is. im making pasta for dinner, you should come over too

Is something wrong? Are you all okay?

we’re fine. nothing bad, don’t freak out, hugo. it’s just dinner

Alright then, I’ll be there shortly. Thanks for cooking, do you want me to bring anything over?

np. bring garlic bread if you guys still have some. dad doesn’t eat it, but regular humans do

 _ **Read** 5:36pm _  

* * *

“... so the bell’s about to ring but I can’t stop dancing now or I would lose! But Sita just picked up her speaker and started walking down the hall to her class, so obviously I had to follow her, but I couldn’t stop dancing. I ended up walking all the way to her class, but I finished the song just before the bell rang. Then I had to run out and get to my class before the teacher got angry. It was pretty funny, _and_ I got five bucks out of it.” Ernest continued.

Lucien started draining the noodles, half listening to Ernest, half trying not to burn himself as the steam came up and fogged his entire face. He placed the noodles into the sauce and stirred the carbonara thoroughly, complete with his favorite greens and a healthy serving of vegan meatballs.

“Food’s done,” he called, nodding at Ernest to get him to help set up the table. They moved over to the dining table to set it all as the sliding door clicked again, signalling Hugo’s entrance.

“Hello everyone. It smells great in here, Lucien,” he greeted, slipping off his shoes and heading straight to Damien. “Good afternoon, love. How was work today?” he asked into Damien’s temple, leaving whisper soft kisses there.

“Uneventful, dear. I received a donut, although.” Damien turned his head slightly to plant a welcome kiss onto Hugo’s lips, wrapping his arms as best he could around the teacher from their position.

“Sounds eventful to me, _cariño_ ,” he returned somewhere in the region between Damien’s mouth and his chin.

“Disgusting!” Ernest fake gagged and Lucien placed his hand over Ernest’s eyes.

“Fathers, in front of our salad?”

“There’s no salad on the—”

“Think of the _children_! _Of the pasta_.”

“Alright, you two, knock that off. Overdramatic children don’t get garlic bread.” Hugo waved the tupperware of reheated bread menacingly at the kids, unwrapping himself from Damien but leading him to his seat, all the same.

He could tell immediately why Lucien had given him the impromptu invitation. Damien was wilting when he came in. Hugo held his hand as he took his seat next to Damien, squeezing it gently but making sure not to have a hint of pity in his eyes. He wasn’t sad for Damien, he just wanted his boyfriend to be happy again.

They ate at their normal volume level, minus one voice. Damien chimed in the best he could, but as it was, he was running on reserves. Not even his portion of the meal was as big as it usually is.

Days were discussed, teasing remarks thrown back and forth. It was normal, comfortable, almost routine. Most importantly, it was safe, it made Damien feel safe, having his family all in one room, the grounding presence of Hugo’s hand on his. His energy might have left him, but so were the clouds fogging his mind.

After dishes were cleared, the Vega boys offered to clean up, Lucien retreating off to his room and Damien still sitting where they had left him. Hugo caught that thousand-yard stare and turned to snap Damien out of it.

“Go upstairs, hon. I’ll meet you when we’re finished down here,” he punctuated with a soft peck under Damien’s jaw. He received a nod in reply, watching with sad eyes as Damien slowly made his way up the stairs.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Ernest asked quietly, focused on the dish at hand.

“Of course, _mijo_. It’s not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. The important part is that we are there for each other. Damien has always helped us, even from the day we first moved here. I can only hope that one day we can repay him.” Hugo sighed as he continued scrubbing a bit of dried pasta stuck to the pot.

“Damien likes us, doesn’t he? Then I think we’ve repaid him plenty. But I still like doing nice things for him and Lucien. They’re, like, our best friends.”

“They really are, kiddo.”

After the dishes were complete, Hugo dried off his hands and climbed the stairs to get to Damien’s room. He entered, seeing Damien sitting at the head of his bed, knees pulled up and gazing straight ahead. The only reason Hugo knew Damien acknowledged him was because of the slow turn of his stare and the faintest uptick of his lips.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you changed into something more comfortable.” Hugo approached Damien, gingerly picking up his hand to lead him onto his feet, slipping the glasses off his face. He started by shuffling through the drawers and finding some loungewear for Damien.

First, Hugo slowly began unbuttoning Damien’s polo, untucking it from his jeans and lifting it over Damien’s head. Immediately, Hugo leant up to kiss at the crook of Damien’s neck, trailing onto the strap of his binder and ending at the edge of his shoulder.

The binder itself was the next to go, Hugo gingerly peeling it off, trying not to move too roughly. Hugo trailed his hands down Damien’s ribcage and rubbed gently, helping the muscles acclimate to the lack of confines. He turned Damien around and massaged at his neck and back.

“Does this feel okay, love?” he whispered onto a pale shoulder.

“Perfect, my dearest,” Damien hummed back, lolling his head to one side. Hugo definitely took that opportunity to cover his mouth onto that spot.

He grabbed the shirt he picked—one of Hugo’s own, actually—and threaded it onto Damien. The messy ponytail on Damien’s head was carefully plucked off, Hugo regathering hair to put it into a loose bun.

From his position behind Damien, he slipped his arms around Damien’s waist and went to pop the button of his jeans as he rest his chin on the taller man’s shoulder. Once unbuttoned and unzipped, Hugo placed a finger on the waistband of Damien’s boxer-briefs as a way of asking permission.

“Would you like me to take it out?” he whispered gently, stroking across the waist band. He felt Damien nod his head, and that was all Hugo needed to quietly take out his packer, setting it aside and then helping him step out of his jeans. Hugo bent down to help loop Damien’s feet through his lounge pants, stopping to kiss at the tops of Damien’s thighs as the pants were pulled up, cinched around the waist.

“Do you need anything, _cariño_?” Hugo let his lips ghost over Damien’s lips, chin, jaw, and throat, waiting patiently for an answer. His hands were at Damien’s hips, tracing soft, warm circles with his thumbs. He was almost worried at how long it was taking Damien to answer, but at the feeling of two arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, Hugo relaxed.

“Hold me, my love. I just want to hear you breathe.”

Hugo led them back to the bed, still on top of the covers but snuggled close together. He had Damien’s head on his chest, the both of them curling into each other. Hugo’s free hand came to rest on Damien’s back, swirling around in meaningless shapes. His lips were firmly planted on the crown of Damien’s head, and he listened until their breaths were in sync.

“For you, _mi amor_ , anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Funny enough, the working title is exactly 'its one of those days'.
> 
> Wrote this when I was feeling blue. Hope this made y'all feel better.


End file.
